SEPTEMBER.


 


 


SEPTEMBER waves his golden-rod


Along the lanes and hollows,


And saunters round the sunny fields,


A-playing with the swallows.


The corn has listened for his step;


The maples blush to greet him;


And gay, coquetting sumac dons


Her velvet cloak to meet him.


Come to the hearth, O merry prince!


With flaming knot and ember;


For all your tricks of frosty eves,


We love your ways, September!


 


 


 


Ellen Mackay Hutchinson